


A Lonely World

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: The Winchesters tend to get laid, you somehow end up with something more exciting.





	1. Chapter 1

I like that you're broken, broken like me

Maybe that makes me a fool

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

\--------------

Fingers drumming aimlessly against cool brown glass, y/e/c locked on the couple swaying to and fro in the back corner.

Another bar, another night of the Winchesters trying to persuade you to let them play wingman. Another night of you declining their offer and electing to drink alone after they leave.

Different town, same story. That is, until _he_ appears in the chair beside you.

You hadn't heard him approach, let alone noticed the shift of people around you. There's a Hunter's instinct kicking in somewhere in the back of your mind, but no alarms. Whatever it is, it won't hurt you.

You feel his finger tips along the small of your back before you see him. There's subtle buzz entwined in a tenderness you've never known within the depths of his touch, every inch of skin tingling from a single brush, a warmth flourishing beneath flannel.

When your eyes find themselves facing warm honey and you could swear you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Come here often, sugar?"

It takes a moment, but you grasp the fleeting sense of reality and steady yourself, turning towards the charismatic stranger, fully aware of the arm now slung across the back of your chair.

"That line work on all the ladies?" You query with a delicate arch of an eyebrow.

"Depends. It work on you?" The corner of his lips tug upwards into a mischievous smirk.

"No."

He allows a quiet chuckle, settling a little closer to you, "Really? I think we both know that that's not true."

You let out a quiet snort, readjusting your body to face the bar more so than him, hand already curled around the beer bottle as you study its contents, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

He arches an eyebrow but pulls away and leans on the bar, "Alright, I'll play along," cocky shift of the shoulders, "let's start over."

He outstretches his hand, smiling at you with such an expectant look, you decide to indulge him, if for no other reason than to entertain yourself for the remainder of the evening.

"Y/N." You accept his hand, soft meeting calloused, gentle meeting firm. There's almost a current running through his veins, a subtle jolt when palms meet and fingers lock.

And there's a twinkle in his eyes when his thumb brushes across yours as he shakes your hand, "They call me Gabriel."

"Pleasure," you can't help the warmth that crawls into the smile you offer.

"So, and forgive the how cliche this line is, what's a girl like you doing in a dump like this...alone?"

"Just passing through," it slips out easily, a forewarning before things go too far, "how about you?"

He shrugs and finally relinquishes his hold on your hand, leaving it empty and nearly forlorn at the loss of his touch.

"Same as you, quick stop in a little town," he glances around the bar before settling back on you.

You nod slowly, noting the intentional break in eye contact to study their surroundings, "Running , huh?"

He seems as surprised by your boldness as you are, gauging the expectant look etched into your features.

"I'm that easy to read, huh?"

"Like a book." You set the empty bottle off to the side and direct your full attention to Gabriel.

"Takes one to know one."

"Except I'm not running," you correct him, "got nothing to run from."

He leans a little closer and his expression grows solemn, "Everyone's running from something."

"I don't run, tough guy." You counter, leaning a little closer, studying every inch of his features. "Something pushes you down, gets in your way, you stand up and make _it_ move."

Gabriel scoffs, "You make it sound easy."

"Task's only impossible if you deem it so," you return proudly, y/e/c drifting from his eyes to his lips and back again.

He flashes another cocky grin, "Mind if I buy you a drink?"

You gesture towards the empty bottle beside you and a slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he orders another round. He waits until the bottles rest between the two of you before he speaks.

"So, if you're not running, what're you doing out here?"

"Road trip with my brothers." You nod to the Winchesters huddled in the corner, two women fawning over them. There may not be any blood relation, but they're the closest thing to family you have.

"And they left you to drink on your own?" He arches an eyebrow, disapproval evident in golden hues.

"I get some peace and quiet, they get laid, we all win." You chuckle lightly, taking a sip of your beer.

"Weird, but whatever works, I guess." Gabriel shrugs, turning his full attention back to you.

"And what are you running from?" You level an expectant look on the man beside you.

"Family drama," he shrugs, avoiding your gaze.

"You really aren't good at this lying thing, are you?"

"Oh, but I'm telling the truth. I got brothers, too, they're just a lot bigger and meaner." He offers an amused smile, "It's good to get away from family now and again."

"I can understand that." You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

"Enough about that, care to dance?"

"I don't dance."

"Really? Who shoved the stick up your ass?"

You snort indelicately, "Apathy."

"Well, let's see if we can't have it removed." He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet and out onto the dance floor.

"Gabriel--"

"Have some fun, Y/N." He twirls you to arms length and then back against his chest.

Your shoulders sag but there's a smile etched into your features, allowing him to guide you across the hardwood. You can feel ths Winchesters' gaze, but soon, he's the only thing you can see, the only thing you can feel as the two of you glide across the floor.

His hands are everywhere, molding with every curve as you move in sync. His presence floods your senses like a rush of ecstacy that you never thought possible, a feather-light embrace that you can't see, but every nerve can feel. You brush off the nagging hunter's alarm, attributing the paranoia and distrust to the alcohol coursing through your veins and the traumatic memories that haunt your thoughts--memories that often banish any hopes of genuine happiness.

Just once, you want those thoughts to be wrong. Just once, you want the mysterious  man whose arms are wound around you, to be real and not a danger when you turn your back. Just once, you pray he feels the same way. 

So, when the Winchesters leave with their catches for the night, when the bar's inhabitants dwindle and it's only the two of you swaying to a slow song, you allow your defenses to fall, if only for a moment.

You lay your head on his shoulder, your eyes sliding shut as you commit every touch, every detail to memory--something to cling to when hell grips hold and you need a safe haven.

You're lost in the newfound sensations, the alcohol singing through your system, a perfect concoction of endorphins and ecstasy until that cool wisp flickers along your spine. It  dances over marred ridges and, for a moment, you're convinced you're imagining it; the chill as nothing more than an unfortunate result of beer and sleep-deprivation.

That is, until you meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat when you notice the faint glint of blue flaring against whiskey, "Gabriel, your eyes--"

"What about them?" He questions innocently.

"Either I'm _much_ drunker than I thought, or they're _glowing_."

"How many rounds have you had, sugar?"

"All night? Five or six?"

"You're drunk, sweetcheeks. My eyes aren't glowing," he assures you smile.

"You sure?  Because I'm pretty sure there's something trailing along my spine, too."

"Drunk. How about we get you back to your motel? You should probably try to sleep this off," he teases gently.

"You're probably right," you relent as the wisp disappears and the alarms in your mind silence themselves.

You're positive you blacked out, convincing yourself the whoosh of air you'd felt was the wind during a brief moment of consciousness on the way to the motel. It couldn't be the ruffle of feathers you hear when Castiel flies you somewhere. The next time you open your eyes, something that felt as if it had only been a moment,  you're both standing in the middle of your motel room, "How long was I out--?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take," Gabriel shrugs, helping you over to the bed.

"I probably snored--"

"Not at all," he waves you off, tucking the blankets around you.

"Thanks for the ride," you murmur, settling in to sleep.

"No problem, sugar. Sweet dreams."

The snap of his fingers is the last thing your exhausted mind can register before you drift off, a content smile spread across your lips.

\-------------------

"Rise and shine, Y/N!" Dean knocks on your door and you groan against the light filtering through the curtains, burying your face in the pillow.

"Go away!"

You hear Dean swipe his spare card and step inside, "Up and at 'em."

"You tell me to get up one more time and I'm coming at _you_." You bite back, reluctantly kicking the blankets off, swinging your feet onto the floor.

"You sleep okay?" He props himself against the doorframe after he closes the door.

"Like a baby," you stand, moving to grab a change of clothes from your bag.

"So, spotty and you cried a lot?"

"Fuck off, Winchester."

"Must be one _hell_ of a hangover if you're _this_ cranky. How'd it go with thar guy last night?"

"What guy?" you deflect, stifling a yawn as you shuffle towards the bathroom to change.

"The one you spent most of the night _drinking_ with?"

"Didn't go anywhere, good dancer though." You call through the door.

"That sucks," he glances around the room, "Maybe next time."

You step out of the bathroom, "Not holding my breath."

"Oh, come on--" Dean's cut short by a knock at the door, "There's Sam," he pulls the door open, "and Cas?" He arches an eyebrow, glancing back at you.

"Don't be a dork, let them inside." You don't look up as you throw your clothes into the duffel.

"Hello, Dean. Y/N." Castiel greets, stepping inside the room.

"What brings you by, feathers?" You glance up from your bag with a smile.

"Sam called about a case, I thought I'd--" he looks over at you for the first time, cutting himself short.

"Cas?" Dean glances between you and the angel.

Castiel strides across the room, brows knit together in confusion,  his eyes beginning to glow a brilliant blue as he reaches for you. 

"Whoa, easy," Dean steps between you and Castiel.

"Something wrong?" You frown, y/e/c darting between his outstretched hand and his eyes.

"You have residual grace."

"I have _what_ now?"

Dean steps aside, allowing Castiel to step closer, offering his hand to you, "May I?"

Confusion emerges victorious in the whirlwind of emotion and you tentatively hold your hand out. You hold your breath as Castiel's fingers ghost over your forearm, a cool whisper beneath his touch as small wisps of blue trail along your skin.

"I've felt that before--" you murmur, eyes trained on the swirling light.

"When?" His gaze darts to your face, concern evident.

"Last night. This _drifter_ sat and talked to me, I thought it was just the beer, but, it felt like this. My hunter alarm was going nuts at first, but he was fine by the end of the night."

Castiel nods slightly before he turns his attention back to your arm, squinting slightly at the Enochian letters glowing bright against your wrist.

"What the hell?!" You jerk your arm back, staring at the lettering as it fades, "What was that?"

Castiel takes your hand again, waving his hand over your wrist to reveal the letters, "It's Enochian and it's a warning."

"A warning for _what_?" Dean steps closer, concern glinting in apple green orbs.

"Y/N's been placed under the protection of," he hesitates, staring at the letters for a long moment in wonder.

"Of _who_?" You press, the anxiety building in your chest.

He meets your gaze solemnly, "The archangel, _Gabriel_."

You open your mouth to speak, but clamp it shut as you sink onto the bed, holding your wrist.

"So, you don't get laid, but you somehow draw the attention of an _archangel_ and get yourself on his _no-smite_ list." Dean shakes his head, scrubbing at his face, "Must be Tuesday."

"He's not just any archangel. He's the only one of the archangels to flee heaven. He's been _missing_ for thousands of years."

"He said he was running from family drama,"  you interject, brushing your thumb over your wrist absently.

"Y/N, did he say where he was going?" Castiel kneels beside you, searching your features desperately.

"No. We talked, drank and I somehow ended up here. Looking back, I guess it felt like when you fly us places, Cas." You look up at him slowly.

Castiel's features fall but he nods, standing back to his full height, "Then he's moved on."

"But why place me under his protection?"

"What did you talk about?" Dean asks.

"How annoying brothers are."

Sam snorts lightly, "Maybe be thought of you as a kindred spirit, fed up with your brothers?"

"That's entirely possible." Castiel glances towards Sam, "Mankind has done much less to earn the protection of God himself, perhaps something Y/N said resonated with Gabriel." 

"In any case, you've now got an archangel in your corner, Y/N. Not a lot of people can say that." Dean pats your shoulder before he moves towards the door, "Let's head home, I promised Bobby we'd pick up some supplies on the way home."

"Right," you find your way to your feet, "I'll meet you outside, just need to grab a few more things."

Dean nods, corralling Sam and Castiel out the door to finish packing up Baby. Within twenty minutes, you're on the road, following Baby down the street. You cast one final glance in your rearview mirror, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you see the archangel's watchful form in the distance.

"See you around, Gabriel."

\--------------------


	2. A Timely Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes hunters are the ones who need to be rescued.

The tip of biting steel traces along your skin, a whisper of fear over flesh as you stare with unwavering defiance into midnight.

This wasn't how the hunt was supposed to go. They weren't supposed to be here. This was supposed to be a vamp nest.

Your jaw sets as the blade draws blood and your features contort into a grimace, trying to conceal the searing fire that sings through your veins with an ill-timed, "That the best you got?" You're not prepared for the blade to delve deeper. You're not prepared for the tears to slip traitorously down your cheeks and provoke taunts from your tormentors.

"What was that, little hunter?"

"You gonna cry? We should find a spell that calls for the tears of a human and see just how many different _techniques_ can bring a hunter to tears."

Spite and fury churn in a dangerous concoction in the pit of your stomach. Somewhere, there's a twinge of indignation. Somewhere, there's a building flame that ignites along your ribs and flares along your forearms. Somewhere, there's a nagging fragment that leaves you anxious and wondering if anyone is actually coming to your rescue.

The Winchesters don't know where you are. You're not sure if your prayers are reaching Castiel and there's no chance in heaven or hell that you're going to escape your bindings with two demons circling you.

Yet, despite the hopelessness tugging at your soul, somehow you know these demons are well and truly _fucked_.

At first, it's a blast of brilliant light that permeates every inch of the room, forcing your eyes shut and your face towards the floor. Then it's a deafening cacophony that splits the air in a high pitched whine that has you straining against your restraints in a desperate attempt to shield your ringing ears.

Somehow, through it all, you can hear the screams of your hell-spawned tormentors. You steal a glimpse of their collapsed frames, eyes burnt out and forms limp as the light and sound fades. As silence falls, you blink slowly, trying to clear the disorientation, barely registering footsteps off to your left. Hunter's instincts kick into overdrive and you're not sure if the newest arrival is better than the former company. You summon what strength you can, feebly wrenching your wrists against biting metal before you feel two fingers press tenderly against your temple and your frame eases beneath their touch. There's a faint whisper of something cool flourishing across your skin, a steady thrum of energy you swear you recognize from somewhere - somewhere celestial.

"Cas?" It's all you can manage in a feeble whisper, swiftly silenced by a violent scream that rips through your chest when the blade is pulled unceremoniously from your shoulder. And then it's gone. Wounds mend, bruises fade and the sharp ache in every muscle ebbs but your head feels heavy and your eyes beg to be closed. When you roll your head to the side, it isn't the tan trenchcoat of your angel friend, but rather dated leather and blue jeans. Confusion emerges victorious before your eyes sag shut and consciousness caves to exhaustion.

\----------------------

The next time you open your eyes, there's a soft breeze dancing through the curtains of your motel room, filtering sunlight streaming over sheets with each whisper of fresh air. The palms of your hands dig in, scrubbing at the sleepy daze over your eyes, willing it to disappear as you sit up on the ancient mattress with a series of squeaks and groans from the springs.

As your gaze shifts over the room you realize all is as you'd left it, a pristine order that suggested the previous evening's events hadn't happened. It's then that the memories come rushing back and you reach instinctively to check what should be a gaping hole in your shoulder.

"Rescued, right? Not Cas, he'd have stuck around," you murmur, swinging your feet onto the floor, fingers threading through disheveled hair, "Balthazar's still on the run...that leaves--" you lift your head, tugging the sleeve of your flannel up and stare at the patch of skin where the invisible sigil hums soothingly along frazzled nerves. Your fingers trace along the skin as your eyes squeeze shut, "Gabriel, I know what you are. I know you're there." You take an uncertain breath, a silencing anxious wave crashing over you. If the archangel is anything like his brother, he can sense it, but he doesn't come.

You wait a long moment before you summon the composure to speak, "Gabriel - I want to thank you...properly." Your eyes open and drift over the room, "Can you at least show yourself before you hit the road again? It's not every day an archangelcomes to my rescue."

One. Two. Three minutes pass with utter silence, the only noticeable trace of movement being the curtains.

Your shoulders sag, features falling with a dejected breath, "All right. Message received," you stand, moving over to your pack to retrieve a clean set of clothes, pausing only when you detect the unmistakable rustle of wings, "I didn't take you as the shy type, tough guy." You cast a glance over your shoulder, quirking an eyebrow.

"I like my dramatic entrances. Besides, I prefer the term _cautious_. Humans are unpredictable, and after Cassie let the cat out of the bag? Well, let's just say I'm not overly eager to have all of heaven on my tail any time soon by showing my mug once too often." Gabriel props himself against the bathroom doorframe.

"Then why come to my rescue?" Your head tilts as you turn, studying his blank features for any trace of the warmth they'd held the first night you'd met him, "Why the _branding_?"

"Is that a hint of disdain, sweetcheeks?" A cocky grin slides easily across soft lips, a mischievous glint flaring to life in alluring whiskey as they trail over your frame. You straighten up, fighting to maintain a detached expression despite the heat rising in your cheeks beneath his weighted gaze.

"Curiosity, at best. Enochian sigils seared into your skin is a little more drastic than getting a man's name tattooed on your arm after the first meeting. So, do I get to hear the story behind my new invisible ink?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh, I'm sure it ties in to that night at the bar, but why I earned such a rare branding is still a mystery. You brand every woman you meet?" There's a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as your arms ease into a comfortable cross in front of your chest.

"What happened to that 'proper thank you' you promised me?"

"I need some answers first." You gesture to the bed expectantly.

"Bed? I like where this is going." he flashes you a wry grin and a wink that sparks a stutter in your heartbeat.

"Don't get your hopes up, smartass." You retort as you take a seat on the mattress, determined to remain composed. Though, despite your best efforts, you're failing spectacularly. Your only saving grace is that maybe, just maybe, he won't notice.

"I'm nothing _but_ hope, sweetcheeks," he glides onto the mattress beside you, leaving very little space between the two of you.

He knows. There's no way he couldn't and yet, you can detect nothing more than light-hearted heckling in those glimmering flecks of honey and hazel. The same warmth you'd glimpsed that night in the bar all those months ago. He's different. Granted, he's an archangel and that, no doubt, is to be expected. Still - he's _different_ in a way you can't quite describe. In a way that's there, and yet just out of reach as he reclines on the bed, propped up on an elbow with a broad grin.

"You gonna ask your questions, sweetcheeks? Or just admire the view?"

You're flustered. You're out of your depth and this is stupid. So, you fall back. You slide further onto the bed and cross your legs, squarely facing the archangel and the grin fades to something unidentifiable. You wouldn't call it affectionate or heated but - you don't know what you'd call it as you adjust your flannel and roll your sleeves back down.

"Depends. You going to give me straight answers this time?"

"I gave you straight answers then," he tilts his head just enough to seem all the more adorable. Of course, he probably intends to it to convey his truthful intentions, but the glimmer in those honeyed hues is damned distracting.

"You did," it's a reluctant concession, "but you weren't altogether forthcoming. You left some key information out in those answers."

Gabriel's lips tug upwards into an almost condescending smirk as a golden brow arches, "You're a hunter, sweetheart. You know better than anyone that your opening line shouldn't be monster-related. And given your history with angels," the smirk falters and with it, the playfulness of his voice, "You'd have been out of that barstool in two seconds flat."

You look down at your hands, almost ashamed. He was right, you would have run, regrouped with the Winchesters. But in your experience, archangels haven't been on the side of humanity, and based solely on that fact, you'd never have let him as close as he had been that night - not by your side and certainly not in your arms.

His voice draws your gaze back to his features, "But you knew something was up. The moment I sat next to you, you tensed - like you sensed something was off about me." He props himself up a little higher, honey flecks flickering over your features as if he were trying identify that piece of your soul that separates the human from the monster-hunter, "Didn't you?"

His question is more of a statement than an inquiry and you offer a solitary nod.

"But you didn't run. That hunter alarm had to be going nuts." He slides a little closer, reaching a seated position, "You've been around my baby brother long enough to sense that--" he pauses, reaching out and his hand hovers over your knee, " _spark_ \- that faint buzz on the edge of your senses that only comes around when something divine enters the room."

A shy smile slips across your lips at the tingling sensation along your knee and you dare to meet his gaze, "Even if I hadn't, your inability to keep your grace in check gave you away."

He chuckles lightly, "You seemed drunk enough, I figured I'd test just how much. I could see the confusion in your eyes, but you...let it slide. Why?" There's intrigue building in his eyes, determination drawing his brows together into a gentle line.

"I thought I was asking the questions," you deflect, ignoring the sudden weight of his hand on your knee through the thin layer of your sweatpants - though when you'd changed from jeans to sweats, you had no idea.

"Indulge me." His head tilts and the rapid flutter of your heart forces your gaze to the dwindling space between you.

"I've - _sensed_ that buzz in a room when an angel enters. Sam and Dean don't understand it," your fingers wind around the string attached to your pants, weaving in and out and over and under to occupy the anxious thrum through your veins, "but I can also sense their intentions. Their hatred when they're looking for a fight. Their fear just before that blade falls. Their anxiety," y/e/c locks with honey, "when they stride up to a hunter in a crowded bar and attempt to make small talk because they're just as lonely." Your voice fades to a soft murmur, "Their relief when they realize they're safe, if only for a moment, in a loud room with a complete stranger. And their warmth when the walls falter," you lean in, holding inches from the archangel's lips, "and they can be what they are."

"And what are they?"

You could swear there's a twinge of fear in his voice, as if a being of his magnitude could be terrified of the next words to come from a mortal's lips.

"They're--"

_I'm on the highway to hell! Highway to hell--_

Your shoulders sag, your chin dropping to your chest as you lean past him to pick up your phone, "Hold that thought."

He smiles gently, watching you stand from the bed and pace a few short steps away and answer the phone.

"Dean?"

_"Y/N! Thank God!"_ You can hear the relief in the eldest Winchester's voice, you can only imagine what his expression is, _"Are you alright?"_

"I'm fine--"

_"We've been trying to get ahold of you for hours. When you didn't check in last night, we got worried. What happened?"_ It'sSam's voice you detect next as you steal a glimpse over your shoulder at Gabriel who seems enthralled with a loose thread in your sheets.

"Wasn't a vamp nest," you lean against the dresser, watching the archangel absently, "It was a trap."

_"A trap? A trap set by who?"_

"I wish I knew. If--" you stop yourself as Gabriel lifts his head, concern flashing in whiskey as they lock with y/e/c.

_"If what? Y/N, you still there?"_ Another twinge of fear in Dean's voice.

"I'm here. Uh," you rub the back of your neck, "If I hadn't brought my angel blade in, I'd have been screwed. I was jumped by two demons.

_"How'd you escape?"_ Sam pries, no doubt exchanging a concerned look with Dean.

"Lucky, I guess. Everything's kind of a blur." Your fingers find their way to your temple as you begin to pace, taking your eyes off the archangel on your bed. "All I know is we'll need to have a chat with Crowley."

_"Could be Abbadon, but we'll check it out all the same."_

"Sounds like a plan." You turn, gaze falling to the empty bed and your heart sinks.

_"Alright. Send us your location, we're on our way to you right now."_

"Will do. See you in a couple hours." You hang up, hand falling to your side in defeated resignation. You drop the phone unceremoniously onto the bed and glance around the room, taking note of the brilliant red on your nightstand. You cautiously move around the bed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips as fingers curl around the singular rose he'd left in his wake, something Enochian inscribed into the ribbon wound elegantly around the green stem. You'll need Cas to translate, but you realize you never got to ask your questions. Part of you wonders if his disappearing act was a deliberate attempt at preventing it. Though, one thing was for certain - the archangel had no concept of manners.

Would it kill him to bid a proper farewell for once?

\------------------

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> Well, it was back by popular demand and y'all have just gotten yourselves a series. Congrats! Next chapter to come as soon as I can find time. xD  
> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a kudo/comment to let me know your thoughts!  
> ~Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> This fic has been in the works for the better part of year, but, at last, I emerge victorious and I finished it!
> 
> Please leave a kudo/comment and let me know your thoughts!
> 
> ~ Phantom


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